


Moments

by Ansku



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-17
Updated: 2011-04-17
Packaged: 2017-11-03 03:43:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/376788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ansku/pseuds/Ansku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was over, and he was still alive. He hadn't expected that. (Complete. No spoilers. Not compatible with the end of the series. Sort of gloomy.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moments

It was over. The concept was so stunning he couldn't move. It was over, and he was still alive. He hadn't expected that.

The ground was cold and uneven against his cheek, and the dirty curtain of his hair blocked any possible view he might have had otherwise. There was a sharp pain of a shallow slash wound in his shoulder and various smaller cuts and bruises all over his body, but the small burn in his calf from two days before hurt more than the other pains combined. It was nothing, really. He was alive, truly, and practically unhurt. That last explosion hadn't ripped him to pieces, and the Dark Lord was dead. How could there even be such luck?

He twitched a little, considering getting up. There was nothing comfortable in the position, and he had no doubt that he provided a rather humiliating view, lying prostrate like that. Draped half over Potter's body, almost like a lover. The boy had a bony pelvis, no doubt about that. There were other things poking into him quite uncomfortably as well, but for once he didn't really blame Potter for the situation. It was hard to feel spiteful when his soul felt so light. It was a weird feeling. Weird, and almost paralyzing. The starkness of the relief made his muscles feel completely powerless.

Well, things were hardly going to get more comfortable. He drew his arms beneath him, slowly, and pushed carefully up. No new and unaccounted for pains flared up, proving his earlier inspection of the situation reasonably creditable. No debilitating injuries, nothing to keep him from going on with his life. Finally.

Having gained some height he glanced at Potter. It would probably be a wise move to ensure the boy wasn't hurt too badly either. There was no obvious bleeding in any significant manner, and Potter was clearly breathing, and conscious, judging from the open eyes that seemed to be following something on the sky. There was no alarm or pain in the boy's expression, and he decided it was good enough indication of reasonable health. There was thus unlikely to be a persecution on his failure to protect the idiot.

Potter's gaze slid slowly down from the skies, meeting him before he had time to get further away. "We did it," the boy muttered unnecessarily, words barely audible, almost garbled. Potter's voice was surprisingly rough, likely worn out from too heavy use in the battle. Then the cracked lips curled into a wry smile. "Should we continue this somewhere a bit warmer?" A following glance towards their pelvises left no room for guessing the nature of the suggestion. It didn't sound like Potter cared about the answer too much, but it was a suggestion nevertheless. Probably genuine as well. He paused to think about it for a heartbeat, and it was all the time he needed to come to a conclusion.

"No," he answered steadily and pushed himself further away. His arms shook from the effort, but he did manage to get himself into a position where he could roll away without hurting himself. Or Potter, although that was definitely a secondary concern. He had fulfilled his duty, what became of the boy now wasn't any of his concern. He definitely didn't want to create any new ties to the reckless fool. There was no temptation in the proposal beyond some fleeting thought about the other Potter rolling in his grave for the mere concept. Most likely that had already been gained, it wasn't worth it to take it any further.

Potter shrugged and returned to the contemplation of the sky. "All right." There was no disappointment in the boy's tone or expression, as he had expected there not to be. It seemed like the weird mood was going around. He glanced at the unremarkable sky, and was unable to see anything worth looking at. It was probably just the position that required least effort from Potter to maintain. There was no need for more anymore, a view he could well understand, even if he personally chose to remove himself from the scene. He just needed to get his feet underneath him first.

"You know where to find me if you change your mind," Potter said, while he re-arranged his limbs to a position more favourable for leaving. The comment was just as off-handed as the previous one had been. It didn't cause any feelings at all in him to refuse the offering.

"I won't," he said simply. He was already up on one knee, and with a burst of effort he managed to get upright. He swayed in place precariously for a moment, but succeeded in steadying himself. A quick glance around revealed several people staggering up all over the field. It wouldn't take long before they would search out the boy.

Potter nodded an acceptance without even bothering to look at him. "Thanks for fighting." There was a bit more emotion in those words. Enough to make it sound like Potter meant it, not just as a platitude but as a genuine recognition of his efforts. It almost sounded like a goodbye as well, not that they had ever had any need for them.

It was his turn to shrug. "Didn't do it for you," he said and turned to limp away. If Potter said anything more he didn't hear it, too deeply concentrated on walking. That burn was bloody annoying. Perhaps he would finally have time to treat it properly now. It would be nice to get rid of the pain. And after that he would figure out what he wanted to do with his life, now that he had one. He made his way out of the battlefield, slowly but surely, without pausing to talk to anyone else. There wasn't anyone around he cared about enough to make sure they were in one piece. He walked out of the fight and his old life and there was nothing he regretted to leave behind.

***

Several years later he happened upon Potter again. It was an encounter brought by chance rather than result of some planning or attempts at avoidance. They gazed upon each other in silence, and had not traffic blocked his way he would have walked past the boy without anything more. Potter's way was unobstructed, but it didn't come as a great surprise when the boy chose not to walk away. Potter had always been too curious for good.

"You never searched me out," Potter said, blandly and without any rancour. The subject clearly didn't have any matter for the boy. If anything he sounded more blasé about the whole thing than back then.

He lifted an eyebrow for a fraction and gave Potter a flat look.

"I know," Potter said easily. "You said you wouldn't." For a moment Potter looked like going on to speculate on possible reasons, but then shrugged again like it didn't matter. It probably didn't. Potter nodded to him once and continued walking, not waiting for an answer and without bothering with goodbyes. There was nothing but ancient history and grievances that no longer mattered between them, nothing to call for pleasantries or idle talk. They parted ways without him uttering a single word, and went on with their lives. It was insignificant in every manner.

***

Time went by, sometimes hurrying, sometimes slowing down to a crawl, but always furthering its passage. It must have been a score of years before Potter appeared into his doorstep, looking as careless as before. When he opened the door Potter only said one word, and made it sound like passing curiosity: "Why?"

He tilted his head, and wondered for a moment if something hadn't come loose in the boy's head. Assuming from their previous encounter he took that Potter was still intent on the same conversation, as long as it had been. For a while he considered just closing the door and going back to his dinner, but decided to indulge the boy. It didn't matter to him an iota if Potter knew or not, but he supposed it might prevent another visit some decades later, if Potter had any consistency in his behaviour at all. He gave the boy a bland look. "I don't like sex."

Potter blinked and appeared to chew on the answer for several heartbeats. To his surprise the boy accepted the words at the face value and didn't start to debate the issue. "I was also offering company," Potter said instead, calm as ever.

He regarded Potter slowly, trying to see if there was anything there he might have been interested in. He couldn't find it. "I prefer my own," he said finally. He reached to pull the door closed. "Was there anything else?" he added, voice somewhat mocking from old habit.

"No, I don't think so," Potter said with a small shrug. "Goodbye, Professor."

He closed the door on Potter's face without returning the greeting. Why start being polite after everything? It might have encouraged the boy. It might have broken the laws of physics, too. He returned to his kitchen and through a window saw Potter walking away. It looked like the boy had no care in the world, just wandering about on an evening stroll.

It was the last time he ever saw Potter in life. And when he lay alone on his death bed, many years later, he still didn't regret a thing.

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case of misunderstandings: the word 'boy' doesn't imply that Potter is underage in any part of the story (which he isn't), it comes from their relative ages. In my mind Snape wouldn't bother upgrading the term to 'young man' or anything of the sort, even in his own mind.


End file.
